


This Could Take All Night

by Magnetism_bind



Series: The Kissing!Verse [7]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Bargaining, Canon-Typical Violence, Captured, Denial of Feelings, Edging, Episode Related, Felching, Grieving, M/M, Manipulation, Mention of Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Restraints, Rimming, Spanking, mention of Silver/Vane, season 2 fic, unlikely allies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25735741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: With Flint captured and awaiting execution in Charlestown, Silver knows there isn't much time left to reach him or if it's even possible. Still, if there's one thing he knows, it's that there's always a way. And he's not willing to surrender Flint to death just yet.Meanwhile, locked away in his cell, waiting for the coming morning, Flint remembers his last night with Silver and thinks of what could have been between them and how much he regrets what he couldn't give him.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw & John Silver
Series: The Kissing!Verse [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/717543
Comments: 15
Kudos: 76





	This Could Take All Night

Silver had managed to compartmentalize the plotting and subsequent stealing of the Urca gold very neatly from everything that happened in bed with Flint. It was easy enough to do. Flint had sworn him nothing. Silver had made him no promises in return. They were nothing to each other. Nothing but crew members who occasionally fucked each other. That is all. And _yet._

And yet ever since that bath, that day Flint had taken him to that room and had reclaimed his body and touched him as though it were the first time made anew…something has been different. Silver hasn’t been able to decipher it or make sense of it. There is something there, lingering beneath the surface, in spite of his certainty that Flint will never love him or kiss him. But perhaps it’s possible for there to be some element of trust, if not outright affection between them. He can only hope.

In the meantime, he still plans for the future. It would be naive to do otherwise.

* * *

Now though, it feels like there is little hope left.

Silver twists slightly in his bonds. He doesn’t know why Vane’s put him here, tied to this chair in the captain’s cabin instead out of there with the rest of the men. It feels like he’s in more danger here than he was in the hold with Vane’s knife to his throat, which is saying something frankly. He can’t think of this cabin without thinking of Flint. It’s Flint’s cabin. It will always _be_ Flint’s cabin. Flint will always be the captain, whatever they try to do to him, whatever happens to him ashore.

Flint, who walked willingly into that stupid fucking trap in Charles-town as though it were nothing at all. As though it didn’t matter. As though _Flint_ didn’t matter.

Silver grinds his teeth, unable to bear the thought of Flint captured, unable to stand the fact that Flint had just gone without any sort of goodbye, or without acknowledging the danger at all. All he cared about was his mission and that girl and whatever he hoped to gain by restoring her to her father.

Perhaps it was a noble mission, but it's a futile mission all the same. Silver could have told him that. He’s never met the governor of Charles-town, but he could have guessed it would end badly, and now look at where they are. He twitches in his chains again, trying to swallow down the fear inside him. He’s been in some bad spots during his life, but this is definitely up there.

The door opens then and Silver tenses as Vane enters and closes the door behind him. For a moment the room is sheathed in darkness again and then Silver blinks as Vane lights the lantern and then leans in close to light his cigarillo. The flickering flame wavers over Vane’s lean face as he does.

Silver watches as Vane blows out the match. The pirate turns to glance at him curiously. Silver holds his gaze, licking his lips nervously as Vane circles the desk. He’s seen the things Vane does to his enemies, and has heard more tales than he cares to recount. Being a member of Flint’s crew is enough to make him an enemy, Silver reckons. He wonders, very briefly, what Vane would do with him if he knew he’d been in the captain’s bed? Would it make a difference? Would it make things worse for him?

“That was a clever plan of yours.” Vane leans against the desk, studying him. “Did you really think you’d get away with it?” The question is casual, as though he doesn’t have any interest one way or another.

Silver shrugs his shoulders lightly. “Perhaps.” He can still feel the knife against his throat. He has no desire to have it returned there. He doesn’t yet see a way out of this, but he knows there has to be one. If only he has more time to think.

There’s no time though and he knows it. Flint is captured and will face the governor’s retribution tomorrow. There is only tonight. He has to figure something out and fast. He can’t let Flint die. Not after…not after everything. Everything between them. Everything that’s happened. Simply everything. He can’t think. His mouth is dry and Vane is like a lion, too close, too predatory, too dangerous.

Vane nods to himself. “Quite a bold move for one who wasn’t always so loyal to Captain Flint and his crew. Or so I’ve heard.” His eyes glint catlike in the lantern light.

“Circumstances change.” Silver keeps his tone light as well. There’s no reason they can’t get out of this. Or at least he can get out of this. He thinks of Flint, on that island, being bold and reckless, walking right into a trap in spite of knowing better. There’s no way Ashe remembers him as a friend and not the villain of the high seas. There’s no way Flint could have walked out of there again, and he has to have known that.

But perhaps Flint simply thought he would be lucky. Perhaps still in the end he’ll be able to talk his way around the past and it won’t matter. Silver could believe him capable of that. He’s believed in lesser magic when it comes to Flint.

“The rumors about you and Flint,” Vane takes a puff on his cigarillo, “Are they true?”

Silver squirms. “Rumors?” This is one particular field he’s unsure of. He’s not ashamed of Flint and him, but he doesn’t particularly want Vane to know about it. He doesn’t really want anyone to know about it, for that matter. He can’t see it being of use. Either Vane will consider him a liability because of his intimacy with Flint and kill him, or he’ll think to use him as leverage, which won’t end well either. And who the fuck has he been talking to? Who knows aboard the ship? And who would tell? He’s been discreet or as discreet as possible aboard a pirate ship when you’re regularly getting fucked by the captain.

“You. In his bed.” Vane blows a smooth ring of smoke into the stale cabin air. “Spreading your legs for him.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Silver starts and then stops. His cheeks heat in spite of himself. In spite of everything he’s done with Flint over the last few months of knowing each other. He can’t help it.

“That’s the way of it though, isn’t it?” Vane says. “Tell me he’s not fucking you.” He smirks slightly as he looks down at Silver. "Maybe I'll believe it."

Silver swallows. “Whatever you’re thinking... I assure you, it will do you no good –“

“To what?” Vane cocks his head, lifting his boot and placing it on the edge of the chair. “You don’t think he’ll offer something in return for your safety?”

“No.” Silver says after a moment. “I don’t.” He’s not naive enough to believe that. No matter what pleasure he and Flint have shared with each other these past months. He knows better than to think it matters now, not when the stakes are high. Not when there are far more important things at risk. For both Flint and himself.

Vane leans in, placing his entirely boot solidly flat on the chair, moving it right up between Silver’s thighs until the toe of it rests almost right against Silver’s groin.

Silver freezes, staring up at Vane with clear eyes. He doesn’t dare look down at that boot in case it moves.

“Really” Vane says. “Think so little of yourself, do you?” He casts a look over Silver casually. “Perhaps you’re right to do so.”

Silver keeps his demeanor calm. He knows that there is no point in begging Vane to spare his life. Either he’ll let Silver live, or he won’t. There is nothing to be gained by asking. Not for him anyway. But there might be something else he can gain. He keeps absolutely still and waits.

At last Vane steps back, removing his foot from the chair. “It matters little enough. Soon what your captain desires will have little consequence in this world. He’ll be dead and the ship will be mine. The crew will have to decide whether to join mine or die. That’s the way of it.”

Silver licks his lips. He had seen the spark in Vane’s eye when they listened to the man from shore. The expression on his face when Vane heard his words. There’s something there, something he can use. He just has to find the angle.

“You heard that man.” He begins.

Vane doesn’t even look at him. “What about him?”

“What he said.” Silver says. “That the death of piracy in the new world has never been nearer than today.” He watches Vane’s face as he says it, and knows that’s it. _That’s_ the angle he can use. “If Flint hangs, that’s true.” He forces away the image those words bring to mind, Flint’s broad shoulders hanging limply from the noose, his body twitching helplessly in death. He will not think of that yet. He doesn’t want to imagine it. “You know that to be true.”

“What of it?” Vane says dismissively.

“However it won’t be true if he doesn’t hang. If he survives and escapes the governor’s own noose.” Silver leans forward slightly in his bonds. “Then piracy will still rule the seas. Flint will continue, unbowed and unbloodied. That outcome would only be a good thing for Nassau. Despite your personal feud with Flint, you have to see the truth in that.” He holds his breath, waiting.

Vane snorts. “And how do you see that outcome happening?”

“If instead of letting him hang, you rescue him.” Silver smiles his most winning smile up at him, letting it rest in Vane's hands, letting him be the hero in this tale.

“You want _me_ to rescue _Flint_?” Vane stares at him incredulously.

“If you don’t go after him, what hope is there of any of you ever being feared again? What hope is there of this life continuing? How long do you think it'll be before England sends more ships once they hear of Flint's death at the end of a noose?"

Vane just gazes at him impassively.

“If Flint is hung in a square like a common thief, your way of life is over.” Silver wets his lips. “There will be no getting it back, no matter how much you hope for it then. Every last one of you will be destined to die an ignominious death. After being thoroughly humiliated and tortured, most likely.”

“You sound as though you know something of that.” Vane says roughly. He pauses. “And if I did do that…if I rescue your precious captain, what then?”

“Then I’m sure Flint will listen to whatever proposition you lay before him.” Silver tells him in all honesty. He can’t imagine Flint turning down a chance of help or partnership here. He knows, _somehow_ he knows Flint needs it.

“I’ll consider it.” Is all Vane says. He takes another puff of his cigarillo as he studies Silver.

“Who told you I shared his bed?” Silver asks, in spite of not wanting to return to the subject. He has to know. Who on the crew knows about him and Flint?

“Your bosun if you truly want to know.” Vane blows a smoke ring into the air. “It seems he was concerned I might simply slit your throat for causing so much trouble. Thought it might stay my hand if I knew whose property you were.”

Silver can’t hold back the laugh escaping him then. “Hardly.”

Vane looks at him again slowly. “So he wouldn’t care if I did slit your throat?” There’s something in the way he asks, the way he looks at Silver now, that shifts the atmosphere in the room every so slightly.

“Where would be the satisfaction in that?” Silver says lightly. He’s so close to Vane agreeing to rescue Flint; he can feel it. And this…if whatever happens next, needs to happen to make that happen…he’ll deal with that later.

Vane shrugs. “In lieu of slitting your throat, what would you do to ensure I do rescue him?”

Silver licks his lips slowly. “I’ve been told I’ve very good with my mouth.” It hardly matters that it wasn’t on the subject of cock sucking that he received the compliment. He knows Flint enjoys it when he sucks him. Perhaps Vane will too. All that matters is Flint is brought back alive.

“Well then…” Vane walks around behind him and reaches for the rope tying Silver’s hands. He undoes it easily. “Let’s see.”

Silver rubs his wrists as Vane circles back around in front of him. Slowly he goes to his knees. In spite of needing Vane to agree to this, in spite of needing Flint alive, he pauses. “Will you tell him of this?”

Vane reaches for a fresh cigarillo. He takes his time lighting it before he looks back at Silver, waiting there before him. “Would it matter?”

Silver licks his lips. “I’d prefer he didn’t know.” He shrugs. “That’s all.”

Vane blows another smoke ring before responding. “I see.” He cocks his head, just looking at Silver pensively. “Well?”

Silver braces himself and lowers his head.

* * *

Flint licks the blood from the corner of his split lip, leaning his head back against the cell wall. The stone is cool against his aching skull at least. That’s something to be grateful for. There is little else. There’s _nothing_ else.

He was a fool to come here. He knows that now. He was a fool to let Miranda come with him. He knew that before, but it’s not until he saw her lifeless body in front of him that it truly hits home.

There is no returning to the past. Whatever’s left of James McGraw is now gone.

They’ll execute him in the morning. He knows that too. Ashe won’t want to keep him around longer than necessary. He’ll do what he needs to, to make an example of the infamous Captain Flint, and then he’ll simply hang him. It will all be over then.

He wonders in the darkness, what Silver will do after his death. Will he stay aboard the Walrus? Whatever mischief he gets up to, he is still a member of the crew after all. He wonders if Silver sees that by now. Surely he must. He’s growing on the crew, much as he grew on Flint.

He thinks of that time they spent together, truly together, in the room in town. How it had felt to be with Silver there, private and intimate. How close he had come to surrendering that kiss to him. How much he had wanted to.

He remembers too, the painful realization that he couldn’t do that. It would only harm the both of them if he were to give in and do that. So he had let Silver leave that room after they had fucked without kissing him, without surrendering that.

Flint closes his eyes, remembering.

Instead he had waited till the next evening had fallen to dusk for Silver to come back to the room, working busily at the table under the porch awning, shirt sleeves pushed up his forearms in the languid heat of the day. There had been time. After those anxious, taut days on the beach, it had been good to have something else to focus on. Something to distract him from everything that was so very close to falling apart.

Silver had returned eventually, and Flint had pushed him up against the railing on the balcony. People could have seen, Flint knows that, and still he slips his hand inside Silver’s breeches, claiming his cock with one possessive fist.

Silver gasps, arching back against the railing. “Right here?”

“No.” Flint murmurs. “I’ll take you inside in a moment. I just wanted to be sure again of that vote of yours.” From the instantly aroused length of Silver’s cock filling his hand, he’s certain he has it.

Silver laughs a little. “It’s yours, as I told you.”

“Good.” Flint says brusquely. He gives Silver a quick tug and then pulls his hand free. “Go inside and get undressed.”

He pours himself a mug of rum from the bottle standing on the balcony table while Silver does, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. He has to do this, he has to remind them both of where this started, how this started, and what it is. Not what it can never be between them.

If he’s honest with himself, he’s looking forward to it as much as he’s dreading it. There is something to be said for showing your darker side to someone. They will never expect anything else after that. There will be nothing left to show.

* * *

Silver’s standing there naked when he pushes the door open and closes it again. Flint stands there, watching him as Silver moves to light a lantern. He wants Silver with every fiber of his being. He wants to hold him close and touch him and learn his mind as well as his body. He wants, god help him, to know Silver intimately as well as passionately.

Instead he takes a sip of rum and sets the cup and bottle down.

Silver eyes it and then looks up at him.

Flint nods at the bed. “On your belly.” He watches as Silver obeys, simply offering himself up. He remembers the first time he did this to Silver, how it felt to stick his tongue inside that gorgeous, perfect ass of his. How wondrous it was to make Silver come undone like that, beneath his lips and tongue. How wondrous the expression of Silver’s face when he had finally faced Flint again afterwards, almost as though he had been struck by lightning and didn’t know what to make of it.

It’s just as perfect this time. Flint presses his face close between Silver’s cheeks as he kneels on the bed behind him. He squeezes them gently at first, stroking the plush globes as Silver squirms and tries to hold himself still and fails, writhing under the brush and flick of Flint's tongue.

Flint lifts his head. “Do I need to tie you down?”

He waits, wondering what it will be, as he traces his thumb idly along the curve of Silver’s ass.

“No.” Silver manages at last. “I can be still.”

Flint doesn’t believe him for a second, but for now he leaves Silver's hands unbound and returns to where his focus lies.

He circles Silver’s asshole with his thumb, teasing the pucker as it flutters and tenses. So delicate, so infinitely pleasurable. He thinks of all the times Silver has been in his bed since this started, how many times they’ve found release in each other’s bodies. How many times he’s made Silver fall apart under his mouth and hands and cock. How he still desires Silver after all that.

He brushes his thumb fleetingly across Silver’s hole. “Show me you want this.”

He’s close to telling Silver to beg and he will, before the night is through. But for now, he wants Silver to use his body to do so. He wants him to admit how much he wants this from Flint, how much he’s willing to surrender.

Silver responds willingly, pushing himself up on his knees, pushing his ass back against Flint. “Please.” His voice is ragged with need and Flint knows if he looks between Silver’s legs he’ll find him rock hard already. “Please.”

Flint brushes his hole lazily with his thumb. He does it again. He strokes Silver softly there until Silver’s ass is practically quivering with need under his touch. Finally he leans in closer, licking along the svelte curve of Silver’s cleft down to his tight hole. Flint licks over it carefully, before pressing his thumb against him again. He lets it press just barely inside Silver’s rim, feeling him quiver around it, hearing too the moan Silver utters.

Then he plunges his tongue deeply inside Silver, making him writhe. Flint drags his thumbs down Silver’s cleft, parting his cheeks wider, allowing his face to press more closely against Silver’s ass, breathing him in.

Silver moans again, louder this time. He buries his face in the thin pillow, trying to stifle his noise, his hands gripping the blankets tightly. 

Flint pulls off. “Put your arms above your head.”

“I wasn’t touching myself.” Silver lifts his head to protest.

“Raise your arms.” Flint’s voice is like steel.

He wants to make this last, but he also wants Silver to get the message he’s sending. He is fully in control here, no matter what he let Silver do last time. He’s captain aboard the ship and off it, and Silver’s only in in his bed by pure fucking luck.

Slowly Silver raises his arms.

Flint takes the same rope from the drawer they used previously to tie Silver’s wrists to the headboard. He takes a moment to curl his fingers through Silver’s hair and tug his head up.

Silver stares up at him. He licks his lips, his eyes focused on Flint. “Well?”

Flint tightens his grip for a moment. “Well?”

“Is this what you were thinking of that day aboard the warship?” Silver asks after a moment.

Flint snorts, releasing his hair. “I had other things on my mind that day.” 

“So you weren’t thinking of fucking me at all?”

“I don’t remember.” Flint lies through his teeth. It’s only a half lie, actually. He had thought of kissing Silver in the midst of all the gunpowder and slitting throats. “What’s it matter?”

He settles back between Silver’s thighs, nudging his legs apart.

“It doesn’t particularly.” Silver shrugs as best as he can with his wrists tied. “I just liked to imagine we were thinking of the same thing that day.”

Momentarily silenced, Flint leans back on the bed. He thinks of what Silver’s said. He gazes at Silver sprawled on the brothel bed, entirely nude, slim legs spread, wrists bound over his head. It’s a sight Flint enjoys and yet he almost wishes he were anywhere else but here tonight.

“What’re you doing now?”

“Thinking.” Flint says shortly.

“On how best to fuck me?” Silver twists his head to look at him. “Surely you know that by now.”

“Perhaps.” Flint shrugs.

He reaches over to the table and grabs the bottle, not bothering with the cup this time. He takes a long drink, still eyeing Silver’s ass waiting for him.

He has to make this count, simultaneously make it so good that Silver will be satisfied and yet also know that this is all there is between them. Raw lust and physical satisfaction, nothing more, nothing less.

It doesn’t matter if Silver loves him. _If_ , Flint tells himself, _if_. He would be quite happy to think his thoughts on the manner were mistaken, that Silver never cared for him at all, and had simply been overcome in the aftermath of a good fuck.

But if it’s true, Silver needs to bury it, or get over it. One of these things must happen if he’s to stay aboard the Walrus and somehow, Flint thinks he will. Even though he has no reason to believe this. Surely once Silver has his portion of the gold (and they will retrieve the gold, it still matters to Flint), he’ll have every opportunity to leave.

And yet…Flint doesn’t want him to. Even if there’s no room aboard the ship for a man enamored of him, even as he deliberately brought Silver here tonight to make him aware of that fact, he still doesn’t want Silver to go.

With a muttered curse, he takes another swig of rum.

Silver shifts to glance at him over his shoulder. The expression in his eyes is clearly puzzled. He doesn’t know what to make of this break in their fucking and honestly Flint can’t blame him. It’s a definite shift from the last time they were here in this room.

 _It doesn’t matter_ , he reminds himself. He needs this not to matter. He’s going to make this night one of the most unforgettable of Silver’s life, even if perhaps he hates Flint for it afterwards.

Flint takes a final drink of rum and sets it down.

With renewed determination he returns to the bed. He scoops up Silver’s legs easily and sits, positioning Silver’s lower half over his lap.

“What’re this then?” Silver twists to look at him.

“Eyes front.” Flint instructs. When Silver doesn’t move, he brings his hand down in a sharp physical emphasis.

Silver jerks forward, the shock of it startling him more than the pain clearly. It’s not the first time Flint’s spanked him obviously, but it’s been a while.

Flint smacks him again, watching Silver’s body react. He squeezes one cheek with his entire hand, as though gripping a piece of ripe fruit. Silver squirms under his grasp, but his cock stiffens more against Flint’s thigh and Flint knows he’s aroused by this. He gives Silver another squeeze, studying his hole. Slowly he pushes two fingertips inside him, while he brings his other hand down on the lower half of his cheek again.

Silver gasps, clenching tightly around Flint’s fingers. Flint keeps stroking him with shallow motions while spanking him lightly. He does this until he can feel Silver’s cock, hot and heavy against his thigh, the tension in his thighs and the lightly reddened lower half of his buttocks.

He pulls his fingers free then, and Silver makes a faint whine low in his throat.

Flint merely brings his hand down on his ass again. “I should gag you as well.”

“I got the impression that you liked hearing me.” Silver murmurs.

Flint pauses. It’s true. but he doesn’t respond. Instead he starts simply stroking Silver’s ass, pressing light circular motions into the heated flesh.

Silver moans softly as he presses into tender points, smoothing them with his fingertips. And then without any warning at all, Flint presses the same two fingers back inside him, curling them deliberately.

Silver groans, his shoulders tightening. He tries to spread his legs wider, trying to gain any sort of friction and Flint simply doesn’t let him. Silver will come when he chooses and not a moment sooner. He keeps fucking him deeply with his fingers, watching as Silver tries to hold back his noise and fails.

“Please.” Silver whispers. “Please, for the love of fuck.”

“What?” Flint keeps moving his fingers. His tone is light, as though they were conversing about the weather. Silver’s hole feels so deliciously hot around his fingers. He wants to fuck him but he needs to get Silver exactly where he wants him first.

“Please, fuck me.” Silver moans. He squirms on Flint’s lap. “You must feel how close I am.”

“Mmm.” Flint murmurs noncommittally. He reaches with his other hand between his legs to touch Silver’s length. “You mean this?”

“Fuck.” Silver gasps as Flint strokes him almost idly and then releases him again. He whines again, trying to spread his legs against Flint’s thighs.

“I think you can last longer.” Flint strokes deeply again and then withdraws his fingers in an abrupt motion.

He shifts position on the bed so he’s kneeling between Silver’s knees. Pushing them wider apart, he draws Silver’s ass up to rest against his hips. He can feel the heat of Silver’s cock through his breeches. He splays his palms wide over Silver’s cheeks, squeezing and teasing them.

Silver moans into his bound arms. “Fuck.”

Flint reaches down to unfasten his breeches, and draw his cock out. With his hand he reaches for the oil on the bedside table. Slicking his cock he lets the head brush along Silver’s cleft.

Silver makes an unbearably obscene sound, hole fluttering and pulsing hungrily.

Flint rubs the head directly over it, watching how Silver’s body reacts again like he’s mesmerized. He keeps rubbing his slicked cockhead just teasingly against Silver’s hole until Silver’s practically panting with need. Slowly Flint slides his hands around Silver’s hips, drawing him backwards onto his cock, inch by slowly agonizing inch. He does this until he’s fully buried inside Silver, and stays there, letting Silver clench and quiver around his length.

And then Flint pulls him off, just a little, so that he can begin.

He fucks Silver’s hole with slow, shallow strokes and then just as Silver starts to whine again, he thrusts deep and lets him sob in release. Only to start the pattern all over again. Every thrust inside Silver, every time he draws nearly off, makes Silver more and more desperate to come. He’s trembling all over, his body slick and taut with tension. Flint feels as though if he merely licked the sweat from Silver’s back, the man would come simply from the rasp of his tongue. He’s tempted to do it, but still he holds himself back.

He lifts Silver’s ass higher, tilting him slightly so Silver’s chest (and his cock) are pressed flat against the mattress, and his ass is at an angle so Flint can just easily thrust back inside him. He gives a few lazy thrusts from this position, letting Silver twist and squirm some more. Really, it’s impressive he hasn’t come so far. It shows just how far he has come since Flint first stuck his cock in him.

Now at last he withdraws until it’s just the head resting inside Silver. He traces the tight rim circling his cock, feeling Silver quiver. “Fuck yourself on my cock.”

“Flint.” Silver gasps. “ _Please_.”

Flint squeezes his ass, pressing deep on the reddened sensitive skin, feeling Silver react. “If you want to come tonight, fuck yourself on my cock.”

Knees still trembling, Silver manages to push himself up. He moves his ass backwards in a rolling motion, rocking against Flint’s cock in a desperate hungry stab for release. He’s slow, almost clumsy at first, balancing on his knees as he fucks himself. It’s lewd, it’s obscene. It’s deeply gratifying to watch Silver skewer himself on his cock.

He smooths his hands over Silver’s ass once more, and then he starts up a punishing pace, fucking roughly, steadily into Silver.

Silver jolts forward, practically bouncing on Flint’s cock. He’s panting openly now as Flint fucks him open, practically splitting him with his cock. 

"Please." Silver moans. "Please."

"What do you want?" Flint whispers. 

"Make me come." Silver pants. 

Flint keeps thrusting, but slides a hand around to grasp his cock. It takes one simple stroke of his fist and Silver spills over his hand, hips jerking as he comes.

Flint draws out of him, and then slides back in, feeling Silver tremble as he does. A few more strokes and Flint feels himself coming as well. He pulls almost all the way out as he does, letting it spill out of Silver's ass. Flint sits up, brushing a hand through his hair as he leans down. "Lay still."

"What're you doing?" Silver murmurs almost drowsily.

Flint doesn't answer as he starts sucking his own spend from Silver's ass. He holds Silver's ass open as he does, sucking lewdly at his hole, feeling it drip into his beard as he does.

Silver gasps as Flint flicks his tongue inside him, teasing his sensitive rim. By the time Flint's done and sits back, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Silver's lying in a limp heap on the bed, unable to move his limbs.

Flint brushes his palms over Silver's ass. Silver moans softly under his hands. He has to be sore at this point. Flint sits there, just looking at him. He rests his hand on Silver’s backside a moment longer and then takes it away.

Silver lies there, still trying to regain his breath as Flint reaches up to untie his wrists.

Silver rubs at them, half sitting up and wincing as he glances at Flint. He has a faintly dazed look in his eyes.

“Do we have the room for the whole night?

 _We_ , Flint notes. Even now Silver thinks of them as a _we_. Did that fuck do nothing? Teach him nothing? But then he looks at it objectively, and knows it didn’t have the effect he meant it to have. So he was rough, he’s been rough before. Silver doesn’t expect this to be gentle, he expects pleasure and release, even if it's roughly given. Somehow, he expects Flint to know how to give that to him.

Silver’s still looking at him expectantly that for a moment Flint almost thinks he was thinking aloud. Then he remembers Silver’s question.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Silver sits up further, still wincing. He starts to get up, clearly intent on the rum.

Flint pushes his shoulder back down on the bed. “Stay.”

He fetches the bottle and cup and turns back to the bed.

As he does, Silver just looks at him and starts laughing.

Flint frowns at him. “What?”

Silver tilts his head, just looking at him.

Flint glances down. His cock’s still out. He shakes his head as he comes over to the bed. “Is it really that funny?” He takes a swig from the bottle, letting the rum mix with the taste of come on his tongue.

“Must be the exhaustion.” Silver reaches for the bottle and cup. He pours a generous amount into the cup as Flint does up his breeches, sits back down beside him. “Here.”

Flint takes the cup from him as Silver tips the bottle back. “Did I wear you out that much?”

Silver shrugs. “It was extremely satisfying.”

His lips are swollen slightly. He must have been bitten them at some point while Flint was occupied. Absently Flint lifts his hand and brushes his thumb along Silver’s lower lip.

Silver freezes and then Flint goes still, delicately aware of his thumb, the soft pressure of Silver’s lip, the heat of him, so close and tantalizing. He can see Silver weighing it, making a move in response and then deliberately, Silver turns his head away, drawing his mouth away from Flint's hand.

He takes a long swig of rum and looks at Flint almost defiantly. “Well?”

“Well.” Flint clears his throat awkwardly. He downs his cup in one long swallow and stands. He discards his breeches and comes back to the bed in just his shirt and underclothes.

Silver’s still sitting there, drinking. He looks up at Flint, half parts his lips as though he’s about to speak.

“We should sleep.” Flint says. “Tomorrow will be a busy day.”

Silver just nods mutely in response. He takes a final drink and leans over to put the bottle down. Flint eyes the curve of his ass, the still reddened skin, imagines how Silver will ache slightly tomorrow as he goes about his duties, how he’ll think of this room and Flint throughout the day.

He moves to blow out the lantern, leaving the room in darkness.

 _Is that enough?_ Flint thinks. To leave his mark on Silver no matter where he goes. That will have to be enough.

Silver curls up with his back to Flint on the bed. Flint pauses and then before he can stop himself, he wraps an arm around Silver’s hip, drawing him close. He knows he should be pulling away instead, but instead he pulls Silver even closer to him. He holds Silver like that throughout the night till the coming dawn wakes them.

* * *

A dull noise in the corridor outside the cell jerks Flint from his memories. He doesn’t turn his head towards the door, doesn’t pay any attention to the two soldiers standing guard who came to gawk at him. He can hear them talking, hears them mention the pirate woman who had come with Captain Flint.

_Miranda._

Flint can barely breathe, the rage inside him burns so hot and then cold. He turns to face them, the lantern light cutting coldly across his face.

They must see the rage in his eyes for they unlock the door and come into the cell.

He stands, facing them and they laugh again.

There’s only two of them. It’s easy to bring one to his knees and straddle the other, wrapping his chains around the man’s throat. He doesn’t even see the man’s face. In his mind, it’s Peter, it’s the captain who shot Miranda. It’s anyone who brought him here. it’s Flint himself.

The other guard shouts hoarsely, bringing more soldiers. The men stream in through the door, grabbing at Flint, trying to drag him off.

Flint barely feels the blows. The physical pain doesn’t register. He’s only dimly aware of the fact that his lips are split further, his mouth is bleeding when they leave. He can feel the blood dripping down the corner of his jaw and raises a chained hand to brush it away.

Drawing a ragged breath he manages to drag himself upright again, leaning heavily back against the wall. The rage dies down in the darkness once more.

_Miranda…_

He can’t think of Miranda now. If he thinks of her, he will scream until his voice is gone and his bones shatter. He goes back to thinking of Silver. Somehow it’s easier to do that. Even if it brings him little comfort tonight. All he can think of, is why didn’t he kiss Silver when he had the chance? There were so many opportunities and he ignored them all, squandered them recklessly. Confident in his stance that it was the right thing to do, to forswear this one thing. That somehow he was being true to Thomas as long as he never let his lips touch Silver’s.

There’s a quiet, rattle of a laugh in the dark. It takes Flint a moment to realize it comes from himself. The laugh is bitter in his throat. He’s not being loyal to Thomas in this idiocy. If anything, he’s lying to himself and being false. Thomas would think him pitiable indeed.

Flint sighs and lets his head droop forward, resting his chained arms on his knees. It does no good to think of what Thomas would think or say. He’s dead, just as Miranda is now. Just as Flint himself will be tomorrow or very shortly thereafter.

There is nothing left to hope for in his estimate, but he still finds the foolish hope within his heart that he could take back those words he’d said to Silver oh so long ago. That he could only tell him…”I’d kiss you, but I’m afraid.” And Silver would ask, ‘What are you afraid of then?” And Flint, honest in his imagination if nowhere else, “Of losing my heart again.”

And it wouldn’t matter, because Silver would be lost too.

* * *

When at last Silver is brought out to join the rest of the men, it’s a little past dawn. The sunlight makes him blink as he’s pushed to the deck and the shackles put in place. He doesn’t look at anyone right away. He wonders if they know anything, or if Vane will keep his word and his secret.

He watches as Vane gathers the men he’s taking to shore. This too is a risk. Only a few of them are willing to follow him on this reckless mission. The rest…the rest could just as easily turn the moment their captain is gone. Just because Vane isn’t on the ship doesn’t mean it’s safe.

All the same, Silver thinks they have a chance here. “If they really do it…if they really manage to rescue him.” He half says aloud.

Billy glances at him curiously. “Who said anything about rescuing anyone?”

“Captain Vane.” Silver says.

“And why were you in his cabin anyway?” Billy asks, as though he didn’t know the answer already.

Silver shrugs lightly.

He has never forgotten that it was by Billy’s insinuation that he had wound up in Flint’s cabin that first day to begin with. That it was because of Billy that he had gone on his knees for Flint in the first place and lost his heart in the process. There are some things you never quite forget.

“And besides,” Billy leans in close, “What makes you think he actually would rescue Flint? Even if he did want to make a point before the governor? He could just as easily slit Flint’s throat as soon as they’re away from town and then all of ours.”

“We share an interest in seeing him rescued.” Is all Silver says.

He remembers the feeling of Vane’s knife on his throat. How he had looked speculative but not won. The same expression on his face when he had finished in Silver’s mouth. Silver wonders if he’s made the right decision after all.

Only time will tell.

He looks towards Charles-town and thinks of Flint. For one brief moment Silver lets himself imagine not only Flint being rescued and returning not only to the ship, but to him as well. Flint finding him and taking him in his arms, and finally letting himself break that final barrier between them, finally letting their lips meet.

Then Silver gives himself a shake and has to laugh though only inwardly. Even _if_ Vane is able to rescue Flint, and if Flint _lets_ the man help him, there’s no guarantee they’ll even make it back to the ship alive. If they do manage that, then the last thing Flint will have on his mind is Silver.

Silver simply has to accept that. To make it work for him.

That last time in the room, the time when (even now his cheeks burn at how he let Flint use him that night. Worse how he had _wanted_ to be used by Flint, how he had offered himself up shamelessly), they had fucked…it had been a warning to himself. This is all it will ever be between the two of them. Mere fucking. Silver had felt himself letting that truth seep into him and feeling it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that Flint would never love him, never let his embraces mean anything, never let his lips touch Silver’s. All that did matter was this, that there was no denying this connection, the need and the lust. That was enough. It had to be.

And once he had his share of the gold...he could go anywhere after all. There was nothing binding him to Flint after all. Feelings fade, lust merely enjoyable. He might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

Once Flint returned, Silver would remember this. He holds on to that feeling now in the soft dawn. It didn’t matter anymore.

* * *

Vane’s watching him as they draw close to the ship. Flint can feel it in his shoulder blades.

“What?” He barks once as they row.

“You’re fortunate you know that?”

Vane’s words catch him off guard. Flint twists to look at him sharply.

“To have men loyal to you, and for what?” Vane’s gaze rakes over him as though trying to decipher something. “What do you offer in return?”

“An opportunity for more.” Flint hisses at him. He doesn’t have time for Vane’s nonsense, any of it. He _has_ to set that town aflame. It _has_ to stand accountable for what happened to Miranda. The rubble of it would testify to her death. Every last stone that he could blow to smithereens would be shattered.

“You don’t even care, do you?” Vane murmurs. “What made me come after you?”

“I thought you didn’t want me to be made a trophy by anyone else.” Flint’s eyes are on the rope being lowered to them over the side of the ship. He’s already planning the first cannon shot. He can hear the roar of it in his mind.

“It was one of your men, actually.” Vane’s ready, reaching for the rope as the boat draws closer to the ship. “That little bedmate of yours.”

Flint hears the words but he can’t really take them in. Questions flying through his mind. Who told? Silver? No, not Silver. Well, probably not. Who else then? And why would Vane be interested, except leverage, of course. Always the possibility of leverage.

He glances at Vane once, his expression cool as he reaches for the rope. “What about him?”

Vane regards him evenly. “You should be thanking him.” That’s all he says, giving a nod to the rope.

Flint climbs up, already moving past Vane’s words in his mind. There is no time for this now, no time for thoughts of Silver now. He will deal with that later. Now he has a town to burn, a funeral pyre to light, an apology to be made. He'll face Silver later. 


End file.
